


The Interview

by squadrickchestopher



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Clint Barton Feels, Deaf Clint Barton, Falling In Love, Feel-good, Fluff and Smut, Happy, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Oral Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Short One Shot, Summer Romance, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: Nat laughs and ducks back out, taking his pen with her. Bucky adjusts his suit jacket, briefly checking out his reflection in the window, and adjusting the sleeve over his prosthetic arm from where it bunched up. He hasn’t read the applicant’s file, but the bonus of being the interviewer is that he doesn’t necessarily have to be prepared. He can wing it.There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” he calls, turning around, and then all coherent thought flees his head becauseholy fuck,Clint Barton is standing in his office.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 19
Kudos: 234





	The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tumblr prompt "We fell in love at summer camp and ran into each other as adult and whoops I still have a crush on you AU"

“James?”

Bucky turns from the window and looks at his office door. His assistant is poking her head through, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waving a hand. “What’s up?”

He tries to keep his voice light, but Natasha knows him better than most people, and she offers him a sympathetic smile. “No promotion, I take it.”

Bucky sighs. “No. Apparently I’ve done _such_ an exemplary job where I am that they want to keep me right here.” He shrugs. “Not the end of the world. Not like I had my heart set on it or anything.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, but she comes in and gives him a quick hug. “Want me to kick some ass for you?”

Bucky laughs. “No. I’ll get over it.” He tilts his head. “Did you come here to offer sympathy, or did you need something?”

“I just want to tell you that your first interview is here,” she says, handing him a file. “He’s cute, by the way. Definitely your type.”

“It’s an associate interview, Nat. Not a date.”

“Well if you don’t hire him, you should take him out.” She casually picks up one of his pens and taps it against her red lips. “You’d make a cute couple.”

Bucky snorts. “I can’t imagine that going over well. ‘Sorry, you’re not quite the right person for the job. How do you feel about going out to dinner instead?’” He shakes his head. “Besides, I’m not really a dating kind of guy.”

Nat shrugs. “Just saying,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Want me to send him in, or do you need more time to mope?”

“What? I don’t mope.”

“You totally mope. Your face was practically built for it.”

“ _Out_ ,” Bucky says, unable to entirely hide his smile. “Send in the cannon fodder.”

Nat laughs and ducks back out, taking his pen with her. Bucky adjusts his suit jacket, briefly checking out his reflection in the window, and adjusting the sleeve over his prosthetic arm from where it bunched up. He hasn’t read the applicant’s file, but the bonus of being the interviewer is that he doesn’t necessarily _have_ to be prepared. He can wing it.

There’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” he calls, turning around, and then all coherent thought flees his head because _holy fuck_ , Clint Barton is standing in his office.

Clint Motherfucking Barton. His first unofficial boyfriend. His crush from summer camp, years and years ago. Bucky had just been realizing that girls didn’t do it for him, and Clint had been feeling the same thing, and they’d been drawn together by some irresistible force. It was a three month whirlwind of stolen kisses, and groping in canoes, and sneaking out of the cabins at night. Bucky _still_ gets off to some of those memories. Still remembers the way Clint’s mouth had felt on him, how he’d made Bucky feel alive for the first time. Unafraid to be himself.

Clint apparently feels the same way, because his eyes are comically wide, and his mouth is hanging open. “ _Bucky_?” he finally asks, incredulous. “ _Bucky Barnes_?”

“Clint,” Bucky says. “Holy shit.” He laughs, because he doesn’t know what else to do. “Wow. I just…wow. I didn’t know it was you.”

“I didn’t know it was _you_ ,” Clint says. “I guess I _thought_ about it potentially, I knew you were a lawyer, but then I was like ‘well, it’s a common name, he can’t be the only guy named James Barnes’ and I just—“ He cuts himself off, still staring at Bucky’s face. “Fucking hell. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Bucky says. “I, uh—sit, please. Sit down.” He indicates the table in front of the windows, and Clint drops into the open seat. Bucky sits down across from him.

“So,” Clint says, looking around the office. “How’s it feel to be a fancy corporate lawyer?”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, still distracted by the fact that Clint is _here_ , in his office, talking to him. “It’s…it’s fine.”

Clint smirks. “Real eloquent. You win all your cases like that?”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, and he shoves Clint’s shoulder. “I’m just surprised, is all. I haven’t seen you since…well, since camp. Almost fifteen years ago.”

Clint laughs. “Ah, River Valley. Good times.” He shakes his head. “Man. Fifteen years. Time flies, huh?”

“You look the same,” Bucky tells him.

“God, I hope not.” Clint rubs his hand through his hair. “That was the growth spurt from hell. I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“No, I just mean—“ Bucky stops, feeling tongue-tied. “You look good.”

Clint smiles. “You too, man.”

The air between them feels electrified. Bucky’s eyes drop to Clint’s mouth, the curve of his lips, and remembers how those same lips felt against his—

He clears his throat sharply. “Um. So. We should interview.”

Clint has an amused look on his face, like he knows exactly what Bucky was just thinking about. “Okay,” he says, leaning back in his chair. He looks totally at ease. “Let’s interview.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Harvard,” Clint says. “Graduated last year. Top of my class. Wanna see my transcripts?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I believe you.”

“I’ve been at a local place for a little bit. Criminal law, defense attorney kind of thing. But I wanted to branch out, and I heard your firm was looking for an associate, so I figured I’d throw my name in.” He shrugs. “And here we are.”

Bucky nods. “I never took you for a Harvard guy. Didn’t you have some great life plan to run away from home and join a circus?”

There’s a twinkle in those hazel eyes. “I did actually, believe it or not. Tiboldt’s Circus. I was Hawkeye, the World’s Greatest Marksman.” He laughs. “But then I got on the wrong end of the law for a bit, and when I came out the other side, I figured it was time to go straight.”

“So you got into Harvard?”

“They were extremely impressed with my application,” Clint says. “Also, I might have threatened someone with an arrow or two.”

“You did _not_ ,” Bucky says.

“No,” Clint admits. He fiddles with one of his hearing aids, adjusting it in his ear. They’re sleeker than the clunky ones Bucky remembers, nearly invisible except for where they curve over the shell of his ear. “But I wanted to. Bunch of uptight pricks, really.”

Bucky snorts. “But you’re one of them now, right?”

“Never,” Clint says, mock offended. “I got in on a full scholarship. I had to work night shifts to help pay rent. They didn’t want anything to do with my poor ass.”

“Their loss,” Bucky says. “I remember it being a very nice ass.”

Then he blushes hard, because he just _said that out loud_ to the person he’s supposed to be having a serious interview with. Clint bursts out laughing. “Thanks,” he says. “Good to know I made an impression.”

_You made a hell of an impression,_ is what Bucky wants to say, but he changes the subject instead. “So, top of your class. Good for you. Tell me about the firm you’re with now.”

Clint launches into an explanation about the work he’s doing. Bucky tries to pay close attention, but he keeps getting distracted by Clint’s hands, and the animated way he’s moving, and the clear passion in his voice. He _likes_ what he does. That much is obvious. He’s good at it too, judging from the stories he’s telling.

“Anyway,” Clint says, leaning over and picking up one of the water bottle on the table. “That’s where I’m at now.” He cracks it and takes a long swallow. Bucky stares at the line of his throat and thinks about how much he wants to drag his tongue up all that smooth skin.

“Well,” he says, forcing himself back to the moment. “That all sounds really good. What made you interested in corporate litigation?”

Clint shrugs. “I like a challenge. Criminals are consistent, but there’s only so many times you can defend a guy for breaking and entering before you just kind of want to shake some sense into him.” He caps the bottle and sets it back down. “Plus, I want a big fancy office like yours. I work in a closet.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You’d be my associate, if I hired you. You wouldn’t get a big office. You'd get the bullpen with the rest of the peons.”

“Ouch.” Clint puts a hand on his heart. “Way to crush my dreams, Buck.”

Bucky takes one of the water bottles for himself and opens it. “Not that you can’t work up to an office. But that’s where you’d have to start.” He takes a sip. “So why should I hire you?”

Clint smirks. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’m serious,” Bucky says, nudging him with his foot. “Here’s your big moment. Give me a list of all your good lawyer qualities. Prove to me you got what it takes.”

“Well,” Clint drawls, leaning back in his chair. “I’m pretty charming. Juries like me. Clients like me. Even the prosecutors liked me. I’m good at digging out information, and giving it just the right amount of spin. I like arguing. And I’m _very_ good at public speaking.” He locks his gaze on Bucky’s, and there’s a wicked glint in his eyes. “You could say I’ve got top notch oral skills.”

Bucky chokes on his water, turning himself into a spluttering mess for a few minutes while Clint unhelpfully pounds him on the back. “Good to know,” Bucky finally manages, face red. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He winks.

“I suppose subtlety isn’t among your strengths,” Bucky says, setting the water down. He coughs again. “I should have remembered that.”

“Subtle is boring,” Clint says, still amused. “I prefer to shoot straight. Literally and figuratively.”

“Is that so?” Bucky wipes his mouth. “You might have a hard time around here, then. Subtle is the name of the game. We want easy cooperation, not a blunt instrument.”

“Gives me something to improve on, then,” Clint says. “We can’t all start out perfect.” He lets out a little laugh, and drags his finger up the side of the water bottle. Condensation collects on his skin. Bucky wants to lick it off. “But I think you’ll find straightforward is the better way to go.”

He leans forward suddenly, his eyes fixed on Bucky’s face. “For example,” he murmurs, and his tone sends a shiver down Bucky’s spine. “We could keep dancing around this—“ he waves his hand in the air between them “—for the rest of the visit, or we could get down to what you really want.”

“And what’s that?” Bucky asks, his throat suddenly dry.

“For me to get on my knees,” Clint says, mouth drawing into a smirk, “and suck your cock the way you’ve been thinking about since I first walked through your door.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. He fumbles for something to say, lost in Clint’s heated gaze and way his fingers are sliding up Bucky’s thigh. “I…uh…I…”

Clint huffs out a little laugh and slides off the chair onto his knees. “Man of many words,” he says, fingers moving to Bucky’s belt. “I’d love to see you in action. In more ways than one.”

“Fuck,” Bucky finally gets out, and he moves his hand over Clint’s. “We can’t—not here—the door—“

“No one’s coming in,” Clint says. He opens the belt. Bucky’s cock is pressing hard against the fabric of his pants, like it’s straining to get out, and he shifts his legs a little wider. “You’re in the middle of an interview, remember?”

“Right,” Bucky says faintly. “Interview.”

Clint smiles up at him and presses his palm to Bucky’s cock. The heat of his palm bleeds through the fabric, and Bucky’s hips jerk up without permission. “Fuck,” he says again, fingers tightening on the chair.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Clint says. He leans forward, replacing his hand with his mouth, and Bucky moans. “But I’ve been thinking about you too.”

Bucky glances at the door, then out the windows, then back at Clint. “Keep going,” he says, and Clint grins. He pulls down the zipper, and taps Bucky’s hips. Bucky obligingly lifts up, and they slide his pants and underwear down just far enough to be out of the way.

“God,” Clint says, staring at his cock. His expression is just pure lust, and it sends a little thrum of excitement through Bucky. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

“I still think about you,” Bucky says, winding his prosthetic fingers into Clint’s hair. “And the night we stole the canoe.”

“Mmm.” Clint laughs. “That was a fun night, wasn’t it?”

“Until you tipped us over,” Bucky says, pulling gently. Clint lets out a little gasp that only serves to turn Bucky on more. “And lost our clothes in the lake.”

“Part of the adventure,” Clint grins, and he leans forward.

Bucky nearly bites through his lip trying to keep himself quiet. _Holy fucking god,_ he thinks, watching his cock disappear into Clint’s mouth. Then he can’t think anything at all, lost as he is in the heat and the suction and whatever the _fuck_ Clint’s doing with his tongue. He makes some strangled noise and pushes his hips up, chasing the feeling as Clint pulls back with a sinful smile on his lips.

“Besides,” Clint says, flicking his tongue around the underside, “you’re the one who tipped us.” He goes down again, taking Bucky deeper, then pulls off with a wet _pop_. “I was very focused on what I was doing. You’re the one who got rowdy.”

“Can’t help it,” Bucky pants, barely able to string words together. His hands are clenching on the armrests. “You’re…really fucking good.”

“I told you,” Clint says with a wink. “Top notch oral skills.”

Then he sets about proving it. He sucks Bucky back into his mouth, working at a steady pace that has Bucky clenching his teeth in an effort to keep quiet. He takes him deep and _hums_ around his cock, then comes back up with a slow drag of his tongue. Bucky can’t take his eyes off him. He’s imagined this so many times, spent nights than he can count with just the memory of Clint. Now he’s _here_ , live and in person, and Bucky wouldn’t look away for all the money in the world.

One of his hands is on Bucky’s thigh. The other is down out of view, but it’s easy to guess what he’s doing, and Bucky nearly comes at that thought alone. Clint’s eyes are closed, until Bucky winds his fingers in his hair again. Then they open, hazel and brilliant, pupils blown wide with lust, and whatever thread of self-control Bucky has left snaps. “I’m gonna come,” he informs Clint, barely managing to get the words out. “I’m gonna—“

Clint taps his leg in acknowledgment, but he doesn’t stop moving. Bucky’s hips snap up on their own, once, twice, and then he’s coming down Clint’s throat. A moan slides out of him, almost against his will, certainly louder than he meant to. He claps a hand over his mouth. Clint chuckles and keeps sucking, taking him through the orgasm, his own hand working furiously until he makes a soft sound around Bucky’s cock and his eyes slip closed. He finally slides off as Bucky lets his hand fall, chest heaving. His whole body feels fuzzy, loose, like he’s been poured into his own bones. He stares at Clint’s swollen lips, watching with rapture as Clint licks his fingers clean and leans his head against Bucky's knee.

“Fuck,” he finally breathes out, and reaches out with his prosthetic hand to cup Clint’s face. “I just…goddamn.”

Clint leans into the touch. “Better than you remember?” he asks, sounding as wrecked as Bucky feels. “I picked up some new tricks since then.”

“It was _great_ ,” Bucky says with feeling. It was better than great, but his brain’s still not entirely online yet, and he can’t think of the right words.

With a reluctant sigh, he withdraws his hand and stands up, adjusting himself back into some semblance of normal. His fingers are uncooperative as he tries to get the belt buckle into place. When he fumbles it for the third time, Clint’s hands settle over his. “Let me,” he murmurs, and he finishes the job. Then he gently leans forward and presses a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. It’s slow, and sweet, and Bucky melts into it, kissing him back.

“I lied,” Clint murmurs, nipping at his bottom lip. His hands rest on Bucky’s waist.

“About what?”

“Not knowing it was you. I knew.” He smiles, the curve of his mouth pressing into Bucky’s jaw. “I’ve uh…kept tabs on you. Just for the last few years.”

“Very stalker of you,” Bucky says. He slides his prosthetic hand up Clint’s back, underneath the suit jacket.

“I was sorry to hear about your accident,” Clint says. “I sent you flowers in the hospital. I would have visited, but I was studying abroad. Couldn’t afford the flight home.”

Bucky hums and drops his hand down, squeezing Clint’s ass. “I wondered who those were from.” He kisses Clint again, then pulls back. “So you meant to come here?”

“Yes and no,” Clint says. “I knew you worked here, but I wasn’t gonna bother you. But once I heard you were looking for an associate, I just…tweaked the system in my favor to get an interview.” He tilts his head towards the door. “Nat’s a friend of mine. She helped.”

“Traitor,” Bucky says, but he’s smiling. “All that work just to see me?”

Clint lifts one shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he says, his voice quiet. “River Valley was a long time ago, but I’ve never met anyone like you since.”

Heat flushes through Bucky. Not the arousal of a few minutes ago, but a slower, softer thing. A warmth in his chest. “That so?”

“Yeah,” Clint says. The usual cocky bluster is gone, replaced by sheer honesty. “I liked you. I still like you. Guess I wanted to see if you liked me too.” There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice, like he’s unsure of what the answer will be.

“Of course I like you,” Bucky says, and he pulls Clint into a hug. “I’ve liked you since camp. I was a goner the moment I saw you on the archery course.”

“Yeah?” Clint says, voice muffled into Bucky’s shoulder. “That turn you on?”

“It did,” Bucky says, “but I liked you for more than that, you know.” He pulls back and looks Clint in the eye. “You’re brazen as hell and smart as fuck, not to mention funny, and confident, and an absolute master at pranks.” He drops his hand and winds his fingers around Clint’s. “I wished so many times we’d kept in touch. I wanted more than just three months.”

“Ah,” Clint says, and he sounds dazed, like that was more than he was expecting to hear. “I…did not know that.”

Bucky hugs him again. “You’re here now,” he says. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to walk into my office and _blow_ me, but you’re here, and that’s what matters.”

Clint snorts and pulls out of the embrace. “You should have,” he says, grinning at him. “The fuck else was I gonna do when I saw you in that suit? Goddamn, Buck. It’s like every fantasy I ever had about you all at once.”

Bucky laughs. “Fine. I should have.” He brushes his hand over his hair and sighs. “Man…”

“I suppose you can’t hire me,” Clint says. “No matter my qualifications.”

“You’re very qualified,” Bucky agrees. “But no, I can’t. I think there’s a policy against fucking your subordinates, and as much as I like breaking rules, I’d also really like to keep my job.”

“That’s fair,” Clint agrees.

“Besides,” Bucky says, straightening Clint’s tie. “I think you like what you do. You’d be bored to tears here, trust me. Defense attorney is way more up your alley.”

Clint lets out a long suffering sigh. “Also true.” He steps past Bucky and looks out the window at the streets below. “There go my fancy office dreams. I hate my little closet.”

“Give it time,” Bucky says. “I used to be in the closet too.”

Clint snorts again, and Bucky realizes what that sounded like. Then they’re both cracking up, tears pricking at his eyes as he laughs so hard he can barely breathe. “You know what I meant,” he says when he can gasp some modicum of air back into his lungs. “Stop it.”

After a few more laughs, Clint wipes his eyes and straightens up. “Okay,” he says, still grinning. “I should go. You have actual interviews to conduct.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, somewhat reluctant. “Are you free tonight?”

“No,” Clint says. “But I am tomorrow. You can take me out then. Nat can give you my number. I fully expect to be wooed and properly romanced before you take me home and fuck me until I can’t walk straight. Sound good?”

Bucky blinks a few times, trying to rid his brain of _that_ image before he has to spend the next interview hiding a boner. “Yeah,” he says, his breath hitching. “That sounds perfect.”

“Good.” Clint kisses him again, hard and intense, then bites at his lower lip before pulling off. “Have fun with your peons,” he says. “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I think I already did,” Bucky says, and Clint smiles as he walks out the door.

Bucky sits behind his desk and takes a moment to try and clear his head. He really does need an associate, or else he’d scrap the whole damn afternoon and chase Clint down the hallway.

Natasha pokes her head into the room. “Told you so,” she says, smug as always. “I’m always right, and you should always listen to me.”

“I’ve never disagreed with that,” Bucky says. “But in this particular case…yes. You were right. He’s totally my type.”

She smiles. “You ready for the next one?”

“As long as it’s not another long-lost boyfriend,” Bucky says, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Unlikely. Her name is Jennifer Walters.” She hands him a file. “But you’ll like her.”

“I will, huh?” Bucky asks absently, musing over the file. “Good to know. Send her in.” Nat turns to go, and he snags her wrist with one hand. “Do me a favor, and book a booth for two at the Circle, will you?”

“Sure,” she says. “Anything else?”

He meets her knowing eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and hope that it covers everything else he doesn’t have the words to express.

“Always,” Nat says softly, and she puts a warm hand over his. “You know that.” She slips his grasp and moves to the door. “I’ll send her in.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, and thinks about tomorrow. Thinks about how good Clint will look in the seat across from him, eating pizza and laughing. Thinks about how he’ll look even better later, when they’re in bed and Bucky’s driving him wild. He wants both of those things—the sexy and the mundane, and there’s a little thrill in his heart when he realizes that he gets to _have_ them. Not just in his dreams, but in real life.

_Tomorrow,_ he tells himself, and with a light heart, he gets up to greet Jennifer Walters.

**Author's Note:**

> Jennifer Walters is She-Hulk, for anyone who's curious.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/feedmecookiesnow)


End file.
